Liberi Fatali
by Libris
Summary: A goddess' demented game finds Freddy allied with former foes and Jason Voorhees in a free for all for the fate of the world, but 'Lady Luck' might be on their side. Undergoing massive rewriting


April 24th, 2009 -

Prologue updated, and the rest of the story has been taken down, to be reuploaded as it is rewritten. I apologize to anyone was forced themselves to read the old version, haha~ I'm well into chapter one, so I'm hoping I can keep this on a swift updating schedule.

Comments, reviews, and critiques are very welcome!

**Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th (c) New Line Cinema**

**Original Plot, Characters, and Settings (c) Libris**

**Liberi Fatali**

_**prologue.**_

**inertia**

_Nothing moves without first being pushed._

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** Downtown San Fransisco, 1:56 AM**

The rain slurred heavy and hard from a black sky as it washed the city into an insubstantial array of neon and fluorescent--like a half-remembered dream.

Colour reflected oddly in the watery dark, it was impossible to see anything in the rain, and easy to imagine what might be ready to jump out of it. The skyscrapers were lost high above, and in the dirty streets below, the past-midnight crowd was one of alleycats and shadows.

In an alley, sharp blue neon curls of the words _'Ender's Bar'_ gave a halo glow to the bricks around it, and a discordant buzzing accompanied it. The dim beat of the club down the sharp steps below beckoned in the darkness, offering, at the very least, a dry place to have a drink. A car passed quickly, shooting water like bullets from spinning tires as its headlights momentarily flooded the the empty, dirty alley. It passed in a moment, leaving the dark to slink back into place.

Something shifted in the night, wrong and strange. A moment later, a man stepped into the rain, thick plinkets of water bouncing off his hat brim. He wore a fedora pulled down and a trenchcoat pulled up, hands dipped into the shabby pockets of his coat, and bizarrely dry for a few moments before the rainfall soaked him through. As he raised his face to the sign, droplets slithered down the cracks and scars in his skin. He descended into the bowels of the place, past the multitudes of soggy posters advertising strippers.

The door opened to a white-lit, dirty landing. A velvet curtain blocked the doorway beyond. Beneath the sound, the squeak of boots on the linoleum announced the intruder, and alerted another man collapsed on the floor in a rumbled suit, glazed eyes tracking up to the face shadowed by the fedora's brim.

"Heeeeeey," slurred a thick voice from the crumbled man. "Heeey, bro'r" His eyebrows worked to knit, as he stumbled to his feet, practically throwing himself as he lunged towards the man in the trenchcoat, who turned slowly as the drunk got a fistful of the fabric and stared up at him.

Under the brim of the fedora eyes sharp as flint and blue as water, the pupils drawn into pinpricks, fixed on him. The face, the face, yeah, the face of the guy, it looked wrong -- all off, deep red and pink crags...

The drunk jerked, his eyes widening and grip first tightening on the ragged material of the coat, and then slipping free as his head suddenly lolled back, puppet-like, on his neck. He garbled, and pink foam formed at the corner of his lips.

"Hey, you just look a little sleepy." Came a rough, amused voice from beneath the fedora. "Why don't you take nice, long nap?"

The man in the trenchcoat twisted his wrist somewhere in the fold of clothing between them, and then shoved, and with another jerk, the dead body of the former deadbeat slid away to to linoleum, a bright red patch like a flower unfolding around the four holes in his rumpled white dress shirt.

The man in the fedora sneered, lips stretching away from pointed teeth, and his hand disappeared back into it's pocket, taking with it a glove of cruel blades, now wet with blood "Fuckers' the same everywhere," said the same sharp voice.

He didn't have time for such trash, and he didn't really care if the body was found or not. He had a more pressing appointment, one that had suddenly shoved itself on him, dragging him half-way across the country against his will.

Annoyed, he strode forward, through the velvet partition that separated the entrance of Ender's Bar from the stairwell, and into the dim and thick air of the nightclub. Immediately, the overwhelming smell of smoke, the heat of bodies, and the shattering beat assaulted him from every angle. The bouncer gave him a once over and turned away, oblivious to the body four feet behind him.

The nightclub was a cocoon of shadows -- everything painting black but lit by the dizzying strobe lights of the dance floor and a maze of neon and blacklight. Nightsticks stuck jauntily out of glasses in bizarre bouquets at the tables, and everything seemed to mocking the elegance of jazz clubs and uptown joints, inverting it. 'Ender's Bar' had been sprayed in large, tribal letters across the cement, glowing ultraviolet.

The place was packed, and he paused momentarily inside the partition, eyes roving for something in particular. When his prey didn't immediately present itself, he sneered again, and stalked along the wall towards the bar, scanning the downturned faces of couples groping the dark; singles groping only their glasses.

This was fucking ridiculous, this whole situation. He didn't finally make it _back_ to be standing dumbly in this dump two thousand miles from Ohio. His whole armed twitched, claws pocketed away curling and uncurling behind a layer of canvas as he eyed the nightclub and it's patrons. The music was getting on his nerves.

"Thirsty?" Asked a sin-sweet voice.

He whipped around, but barely half-turned when long fingers with crimson nails laid lightly on his shoulder, and he stared into the face of a woman with a waterfall of dark, loose curls, olive skin, and a Grecian nose, her lipstick the same curdling red.

She looked like she belonged on one of those posters in the stairwell.

He would have - wanted to, ached to - killed her. But even as the annoying techno shook the walls and those overfull lips beckoned quietly to be torn asunder, it was all he could due to shove down the need and give this whore a pointed cold shoulder, holding in even a wisecrack in favor of the promise of a teasing note he'd received hours earlier.

Someone - something powerful - had busted him free out of his imprisonment and beckoned him here. Something that had offered to give him back all he'd lost -- and give him more. He was double damned if he was going to let this chance go just because of something stupid getting to him. Even _he_ had more control than that. The problem was they were leaving him no clues - giving him nothing to follow.

'_Come to Ender's Bar, San Francisco, California. 2:00 am sharp'_

It was all he'd been left with hours ago -- and what then?

The hand didn't leave his shoulder, and a very soft voice whispered close to his ear. "Glad you could make it, Frederick Krueger."

The woman stepped around until they were facing one another. Freddy's own lips curled back, in something that was almost like a snarl even though it had the shape of a smile.

"You." He started. "You dragged me outta hell." His fingers twitched.

"I'm not sure Hades' would appreciate you comparing his realm to the Deadite dimension." She replied with a quirk to her lips. "Let's talk somewhere private." She turned as she spoke, so the last word lingered over a bared shoulder. As she waltzed off, and he followed, despite a gut rejection at letting her control this show.

But there was little he could do at this point. His power had been drained, taken, and a chance, any chance, to get it all back seemed too good to pass up. Once he was _back_, then all bets were off. _That fucking Ash, that pansy-ass elvis impersonator.._.

They passed through another velvet curtain to the right of the bar, into a room red and gold, a swirling circle painted on the blotchy concrete . The woman sat on a chaisse lounge in a tangle of long legs and slinky black dress, before smiling cruelly, beckoning for him to follow suit.

Whoever she was, she was too fucking full of herself.

He sat across from her on a a padded bench, the short table between them already set with a decanter and glasses. No one else was in this room, which was obviously private, and the grinding music was much quieter.

He watched her face with narrow eyes. "Well?" he ground out. "I hafta admit, I seem to _owe_ you one, and I don't generally like the idea of owing _anybody _anything. And I don't even have your phone number yet."

She had lit a cigarette, and exhaled pale smoke into the air. "I am Eris, the Goddess of Discord."

There was a pause, and he took this revelation with wide eyes. "...'Goddess of Discord'." Freddy echoed. "That has a nice ring to it."

She smiled pointedly. "I can't say I can complain about my job." Eris leaned forward, arms draped over crossed thighs and dress barely keeping up with the idea of 'clothing'. "A war here, a murder there. All in a day's work."

"Sounds like my kinda work." Freddy felt himself relax slightly, the company of someone who saw things his way suddenly a highlight, compared to what he'd been expecting. He still didn't trust the whore, however. He loosened slightly out of the uncomfortable trenchcoat, hat cocked back, bladed glove resting on one knee as he leaned forward.

"Which is exactly why you're here." Eris continued. "You see, I'm setting a little something up, something that could potentially have a wonderful payout for you, not to mention the immediate return of most of your power, and I need..." She tilted her head slightly closer, a conspiratorial and entirely mischievous thread entering her voice. "...Someone vicious, cruel, and mad as a nightmare out of hell."

"What 'little something' would this be exactly?" he asked suspiciously.

"Do you like games?" her cigarette made lazy curls of smoke. All Freddy's alarms went off, her vagueness ringing false. "Because that's all it is, really -- and at stake, the winner will become a god." she motioned vaguely with the tip of the cigarette. "And all the losers... well, if you lose, even I won't be able to bring you back."

Something jumped in his chest, and although he didn't want to admit it, suddenly her prospect took on a whole new light. _A god_. His eyes glimmered sharply, but he snorted again, turning to look away. His teeth shone brightly in the purple glow. "What kind of _game?_" He breathed mockingly.

"I'm not sure what you would call it, exactly." She smiled, coy. "A battle of brain and brawn. But with rules, and a little luck thrown in. And, I don't think I mentioned this, but a lot of your old _flames_ will be there." This seemed to be very amusing to her, and she chuckled.

The whole thing sounded way too good to be true. And hey, if there _was_ a goddess of Discord just floating around stirring up trouble, why hadn't she presented herself before now, at his most weakest?

"...What's the catch? Things like _you_ don't just hand out that kind of thing." He poured himself something from the decanter out of curiosity, and because he felt like he might need a drink after this proposition.

"There's no catch." Eris eyebrows raised. "And why not? I have the same reasons those demons did when_ they _gave you power. The depths of that twisted soul of yours is fascinating - and I'm rather bored. I'm not going to make it _easy_ for you to _win_, though, there would be no fun in that. But such a being as yourself, you'll be wading through the lot of them."

"Then," his eyes flashed. "Who else is already in on this?"

"I'm sure you know most of them. Chucky, Myers, Sadako, Samara. A murderer from Texas obsessed with lotion, hm..." She seemed to be ticking off names in her head. "There's quite a few of them, actually. Jason Voorhe-"

The dream demon leaped out of his chair as if he'd been electrified, pale blues eyes ringed by a burning, natural gold. His face was twisted into an expression of infernal contempt as he stared down into Eris' strong features, and she met his gaze with an amused twist of her own lips.

"You… don't want to fight him?" She asked, leaning back in her chair, and watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"No." Freddy responded shortly, fixing his trenchcoat before he walked off. The last thing he needed right now was to be sighted by some idiot with half a brain cell before he could regather power -- _on his own_. "_Those _bitches I can handle." He seethed, "But that retarded _fucker_ -- nothing goes well when he's involved. _**No-fucking-way**_."

He downed the last of his glass, almost dropping it on the table with a hollow thump, before turning, already gathering what little power he had left to leave this fucking place as shortly and quickly as possible. The air wavered. _Fucking_ Goddess of _Discord_.

"I suppose when he wins, then, you'll just bow your head?"

The coy, smartass voice of Eris winded into Freddy's ear, and he jerked, hand half-raised to break down the wall of reality into the dreamworld.

"_You_ couldn't bring him down," Eris continued, sing-song. "He's an unstoppable monster, Krueger." She sounded like she was a having a hard time not laughing about something, although her words rang true and harsh. Whatever the fuck she found so amusing went completely over him - although the fact she seemed to know about his previous encounters with Voorhees didn't. "Do you really think a doll and a girl in a well stand a chance, when _you_ have the power to control someone's dreams?"

Freddy waited for her to continue, his mind racing.

"Oh, and I don't think I mentioned this completely, but the game is a more than an all-out brawl. I'm evening the playing field a little." She tossed her head. "You'll be a little more vulnerable than you usually are, but, so will _he_."

And with that, she waited. For a long moment, Freddy stood there, a hand upraised as the goddess' words sunk seemed desperate underneath the coyness to get him involved, and that only upped his suspicions, along side the _why_ she was even offering something like this. Yet, at the same time, godhood was not something he wanted to walk away from -- and Jason getting it - well, fuck. Even if the momma's boy knew what to _do_ with it, Freddy couldn't even stand the idea of being one-upped like that.

He growled, hand falling down, took a deep breath, glared at her, and with a thump, sat back down.

Eris looked pleased. He satiated his anger momentarily by imagining her face cut to ribbons, lips ruptured and blood bubbling, before speaking. "How does this shit work, then? I jump into their dreams and slice the fuckers up? And, 'vulnerability'--" He spat the word.

Eris moved, and it took him a moment to realizing she removing a laptop from beside the chaisse. She set it in front of him, flipping it open, and spinning it to face him. "It's in the print. All you have to do is sign, and we'll handle everything else." He'd have expected some fancy old parchment written in blood, not a nice digital read-out with only a sigil at the bottom giving away it's true importance. It was surreal to see a goddess taking advantage of technology.

Nice and legal looking at least, and her type, they were bound by these kind of contracts, right? He seemed to vaguely remember mythology in high school - a long distant time that he was usually better-off thinking had never happened - and that had always been a big deal -- making everything nice and legal -- and even when it bit them in the ass at the end they couldn't go back on their word.

It assuaged his prickling suspicions a bit as he scooted to the edge of his seat and tilted the screen with his ungloved hand to get a look at the print in question. Freddy began skimming quickly but throughly, eyes more looking out for convenient loopholes as much as these rules of hers, which was written in the English of lawyers, and thankfully not Greek or Latin as they usually were, and might as _well_ have been some infernal tongue--

"You're going to turn us mortal." He spat flatly, voice going low, eyes shooting up to bore into Eris', as alight as any furnace and far more malevolent. "Fucking _Mortal_."

"--only to level the playing field, my dear." Said the goddess. "None of your powers will be taken away from you."

"I could _die_. Again." As if the first time had not been fucking_ pleasant_ enough. "Godhood ain't _worth_ it."

"You still don't get it." Her eyes were just as full of fire as his, but a very different type of flame, as she leaned forward, fro the first time seeming as eager as she was barely-hidden desperate. "You'll be fighting mostly children, Krueger. Very vicious, mean-spirited, naughty children - but how old do you think some of them really _were_?"

One finger-blade hovering over the down key, Freddy met her eyes. He blatantly stared for one long moment, the full weight of Eris' proposition finally sinking in with a force like a whirling drain, down, down into the depth of his conscious. And then slowly, he smiled, his face opening like a raw wound.

Goddess of _Discord_ indeed.

He looked back to the laptop, and with a slit grin still splitting his face, tapped a blade to the screen, which bruised dark black at the pressure. "How do I sign?"

She shrugged, "How do you sign anything?"

Now feeling a bit silly, the dream demon leaned forward awkwardly, and traced his name in the air with one bladed fingertip. The words stayed, black as soot, but behind the LCD that separated the digital world from the real one. It was already joined by more than a dozen others, and Eris had not been lying - the ones he agonized, well, most of them had never survived puberty.

The notion made his stomach flip with promise.

"Alright, then." He gave the goddess a lopsided smile, teeth flashing, "Although, I'm kinda curious, who is the--"

Something caught Freddy's attention, a small, disquieting brush against his mind. that had been building for the past few moments, but written off as anxiety. Now, it nearly nudged, and he snapped his head away from the woman's face, to the concrete floor and the swirling red pattern that was suddenly moving, curling around itself in sharp crimson swirls beneath his feet.

"--dice--what--"

The pain came abruptly, and although he wasn't privy to the knowledge, even he stood no chance against the sudden agony rending his body as those before him had, lured here by Eris. The scream was ripped right out of him, echoing in the small room and filling the space, even as his body lost control, arcing as the unexpected torture sang along his spinalcord and skin.

In the redout, the thought came to him that he'd been burned alive, cut to pieces, dismembered, and nothing, _nothing_ was like this - it felt as if his body was being deliquesced slowly inwards.

Eris watched on, her expression never changing from that flirtatious amusement as the dream demon fell off the bench, writhing. The shapes below his wracked figured formed, him at the epicenter -- glyphs and circles spinning outwards into some great design.

The sigil glowed, outer rings and figures first, and then slowly inwards, faster, until, for one moment, the murderer was blanketed in pale red light and the room echoed with his screams.

Then the noise was gone, and so was the glyphs and the light with them - everything was back to how it had been shortly before they'd arrived, except for an empty glass and a pile of clothing drenched in something disgusting, and the now bare, normal looking floor devoid of patterns. Eris stood, tipped back her glass of scotch and felt it burn down her throat, and after setting it back down, strolled to the pile of clothing, humming.

She was just leaning down and fumbling with the discarded clothing when the velvet partition behind her was forcibly shoved aside, and one of the bouncers came in with a face twisted in panic, an odd expression for a man nearly seven feet tall.

"Eris, there's --" The bouncer's voice squeaked, and then froze, eyes widening as the goddess stood, now holding the baby boy that a moment ago had been struggling to free itself from the wrap of soggy tenchcoat, and cooing softly at the tiny scrunched-up face that was threatening to cry in her arms.

"I-is that...?" The bouncer trailed.

Eris looked up and smiled. "Did something happen, Andrew?"

"Er--" Started Andrew, fascinated. A shape appeared behind him in the door, and pushed him aside as it entered the room, and Andrew jerked back from it's touch as if he'd been shocked.

It was another man, although this one seemed out-of-place surrounded by blacklight and techno in a heavy leather coat and wide brimmed hat, the warped shadows on his face barely hiding the preacher's collar -- And despite the mundane ordinariness of his appearance, there was something... _wrong_ with the man. In the way he moved, in the way he stood -- in the way he occupied a space. It was an unsettling feeling, the same kind one got from an psychically impossible object, or the moving dead -- it wasn't supposed to even **exist**.

The preacher raised his head slightly towards the protesting baby, eyeing the thing that had the goddess' rapt attention. The dim glow of the room made eerie shadows on the mass of stained bandages that wrapped around his head and chin, covering his eyes and everything but his mouth.

"Oh, Dorian~" Eris singsonged, her voice a mocking lull for a moment, "Good of you to finally make it, honeybunch. I'd offer you a seat, but, well..." She glanced meaningfully at the soggy trenchcoat and the dark substance it had left all over the bench. "We still need a cleanup in Aisle B."

She turned back towards the preacher, and then leaned down and cooed something sacrilegiously sweet to the child. It hiccuped, then giggled. Eris voiced whispered, suddenly loosing all of the flirtatious smugness it had been smothered in earlier as she raised to face him, "That's the last of them -- we won't let it win, darling, it has to play by our rules, too."

She made a face at the baby, and it continued giggling, it's upset forgotten. She went on. "I don't think much of your ideals and less of your habits, but we, and all of humanity, are together on that. We won't_ let _it win."

"YOU PUT TOO MUCH FAITH IN THE GOOD OF MAN, ERIS." The voice that issued from beneath the hat was startling, and quiet. But it was the quiet of empty things. "IT'S COUNTING ON THAT, BE CAUTIOUS."

Eris raised her face to meet the Preacher's bound one, her shorter statutre forcIng her to crane her neck slightly to eye the dips on the bandages were his eyes supposedly were. She was smiling the, smugness having returned but of quite a diffrent quality now.

"Babe, I prefer to have faith in the _sin_ of man."

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Many thanks to my betas~ Without you guys, this would still be an incoherent mess.

It's been quite a while since I wrote in this fandom(s), and inconstancy of character and continuity are probably present. If you notice something that seems off, feel free to tell me so I can fix it~

Also, real quick to answer a question - both my penname and the title are Latin, but they are unrelated, haha~

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